maybe you cared all along
by uponagraydawn
Summary: Caleb falls ill before a job. Kasmir definitely isn't worried. (Spoilers for up to Kanan: The Last Padawan #5)


"Another hour and we'll be in the Anoat Sector."

"'Kay."

"Then about twenty minutes to Burnin Konn."

"Mm."

Kasmir looks over from the pilot's seat. "Try to dial down the enthusiasm, kid."

Caleb blinks slowly, swallows, and is reminded of just how bad this situation is becoming when he has to turn his face away to hide a wince. "Sorry."

"Look, I know meet-ups aren't the most exciting things but this trade is gonna be real good for us. Lots of ore, lots of money."

"Yeah, I know." He sinks lower in the copilot chair and wraps his arms around himself a little tighter. "Sorry. I'm just a little tired."

It's a lie (he's gotten so good at lying). This is bad. This is real, real bad. Trying to convince himself the fatigue is from those late-night ops and running on little sleep isn't working anymore. He's gotten plenty of sleep recently down the Hydian Way—they came all the way from the Corporate Sector so they've had a bit of downtime—but it hasn't helped at all. Ignoring the stinging ache in his throat isn't working anymore either. He's been hoping it'll go away on its own, but now it's becoming painfully apparent that that's not going to happen and he's about to boil over with frustration at himself. He knows he should say something, but he can't.

As if to drive it home, a cough tears itself from his throat and it's all he can do to mask the pain.

It takes Caleb far too long to realize that Kasmir's staring at him. When he does, he scowls. "What?"

There's a look on the Kalleran's face that he's never seen before and can't quite put a name to. "You okay?"

"Yeah. I told you, I'm just tired."

"I don't think I believe you."

Caleb pulls his cowl further up around his face which, he realizes too late, probably hurts his case more than helps it. But he'll be damned if he lets Kasmir see weakness in him. "I'm fine, I swear."

"Kid, we've been together long enough now for me to know when you're fine and when you're not."

A part of Caleb wants to think he hears concern in his partner's voice, but he knows better than that. "It's nothing you need to worry about." His voice grates against his throat like sand on rock. "It won't interfere with the job." Another lie, probably. His limbs are starting to feel like lead; he can't imagine walking around like this, much less running, should the need arise (and it probably will).

Kasmir sighs. Caleb can't tell if he's bought in or not. "It better not," he grumbles. "Why don't you get a little more sleep before we drop out of hyperspace? Maybe you'll be back to your normal annoying self by the time we meet with our contact."

Well, more sleep doesn't sound too bad. "Yeah, okay."

Getting up out of the chair is unexpectedly hard, but he thinks he manages it without tipping Kasmir off to just how unsteady he's feeling. His head is foggy, and his movements are clumsy and slow. By the time he makes it to the back of the ship, his head is spinning and he has to lean against the wall to keep himself upright.

This is really, really not good.

Kasmir's been going on about this job lately, how it'll rake in the credits they need. It's just a simple trade, but still pretty risky since Burnin Konn is hot on the Imperial radar due to the ore exports. Never mind the fact that Kasmir's bartering a shipment of cortosis they'd smuggled off of Ammuud a few weeks ago. Their contact is willing to pay them handsomely in ore for it. Of course, Kasmir is pretty sure that some sort of funny business will go down, and Caleb doesn't blame him. These kinds of gigs usually don't run without a hitch. The buyer promised chromium, which naturally made both of them skeptical about collecting it. Caleb has absolutely no doubt that they won't be leaving the planet without the exact payment they were promised one way or another, but he's nervous about the trade. Kasmir says their buyer shouldn't have a reason to try anything funny, but the Clone troopers on their tail have turned business partners against them before.

And Caleb still has a hard time reading his counterpart. The job that ended with Kasmir handing him over to Key for droids like some tradable good hasn't really ever left his mind. Even though it wasn't a _real_ betrayal, the incident made Caleb wonder if there would come a day when Kasmir really would sell him out to the Empire for the right price.

 _He wouldn't. He's had months to hand me over and plenty of opportunities. If he hasn't gotten rid of me by now, he's not ever going to._

But he doesn't really believe that. Maybe Kasmir won't ever turn him in for bounty, but Caleb is still worried he might get fed up, decide that he's become dead weight and drop him on the nearest planet. And if Kasmir does decide to drop him, what reason would he have _not_ to claim his bounty?

As much as he doesn't want to admit it, Caleb's grown to like the Kalleran. A little bit. He's the only companion he's had since losing Depa. And as stupid as it sounds, he'd like to think that Kasmir has grown a little fond of him, too. Neither would ever call the other a friend, but maybe… Well, that kind of thinking won't do any good. If Kasmir ever does decide to betray him for real, though, it's too late to pretend it won't hurt.

And it would be nice to know that he's cared about, that he's seen as more than just a means to an end or a convenient pair of hands to help collect capital.

But that's all he's good for these days. Which is why he can't let Kasmir know that something's wrong with him.

And something is definitely wrong. As soon as he reaches the little bunk tucked into the side of the cabin, he collapses onto it and is shaken by a coughing fit he's been suppressing for the past twenty minutes. His throat burns, feels completely torn up, and his body is so _heavy_. He'd caught a flu once as a small child—it'd taken forever to clear up, but he doesn't remember it making him feel like _this_. He's exhausted to his core, can feel illness burrowing deep into his bones and leeching away his energy.

He'll be a hindrance to Kasmir in this state. For all the effort he's put towards ignoring it, he can't deny anymore that he's really not up to running a job right now. He just can't decide if Kasmir would be more annoyed if he told him he doesn't have the strength to leave the ship or if he collapsed in the middle of the trade.

Either way, Kasmir'll be pissed at him.

But he'll deal with that later. Right now, he just wants to sleep. Maybe he'll wake up feeling stronger.

—

He doesn't wake up feeling stronger. He wakes up feeling like someone set off a flash detonator inside his head, and like a tooka's been using his throat as a scratching post. The first thing he sees is some green blob in front of his eyes; his vision takes its time focusing, but gradually it becomes a three-fingered hand. Kasmir's hand.

The presence of his partner startles him and he draws in a breath—which turns out to be a horrible mistake. The dry air hits the back of his throat and he's taken by a violent fit of coughing. It rips his throat open, shreds it to ribbons, and he tries to stop it but he _can't_.

"Whoa. Easy there, kid."

A cool, smooth hand slides under his back and levers him into a sitting position. Long fingers thump on his back and he can't get enough breath to tell Kasmir to stop. Then a cup is shoved into his hands. He pours water into his mouth, down his throat, and it manages to finally tame the fit and bring a little relief to the fire burning in his windpipe.

"Thanks," he says—or _tries_ to say. The word comes out as nothing more than a hoarse, gravelly croak, barely recognizable. He lifts a hand to touch the front of his neck. Was that _his_ voice?

Next to him, Kasmir grimaces. "You sound terrible."

Caleb tries to blink through the fog sitting in his head. "I'm—I'm fine." He can just barely force out the words. "It's nothing."

The Kalleran folds his arms over his chest, obviously irritated. "You should know by now you can't lie to me. I'm the one that taught you how."

"I can still help with the trade," he insists. He's trying to convince himself of it as much as his partner.

"Kid, you're burnin' with fever. You couldn't even make it to the cockpit from here." When Caleb shifts, he presses a hand to his chest. "That's _not_ a challenge."

Caleb stares up at him through long strands of hair that have fallen free from his ponytail. Honestly, he knows he can't argue. Chills are raking up and down his back and even sitting up this long is starting to make him lightheaded. He just can't admit to Kasmir that he's not up to the job, even when it's far too late to convince the Kalleran otherwise.

"You'd be more of a hurt than a help like this," the tall sentient continues. "You're just gonna have to stay on the ship."

Caleb's stomach sinks to his feet. He feels sick, and it has nothing to do with the virus. He's finally become what he swore he never would: an inconvenience. Being useful is the only thing that's kept him alive until now.

He drops his head, suddenly too ashamed to look at his partner. "I'm sorry."

In his peripherals, he can sense Kasmir stiffen, hesitate. He shifts on his knees beside the bunk. "Kid… You don't have to apologize. It's not your fault."

"I just—I know I need to pull my weight—"

Kasmir sighs wearily and runs a hand over his head. "You've pulled plenty of weight. Look, it can't be helped. It just happens. The best thing you can do is stay here and rest."

Caleb deflates. He can't deny that part of him is relieved—he really feels awful. He was willing to try to tough it out and power through the job, but staying in bed is a lot more appealing. Still, the situation is less than ideal.

He lowers himself back down and gazes up at Kasmir through a fever haze. "You think you can pull this off without me?"

Kasmir laughs loudly. "Boy, you don't know half the things I did on my own before you came along. I'll manage."

If the circumstances had been different, Caleb might've been offended by that. As it is now, he just continues to feel relieved. "Will you be on comms if you get into trouble?"

"What, you worried about me? Think you could come save me if something goes wrong?" Kasmir smirks. "Don't go getting any ideas, kid. Not in your condition. I'll be fine."

There's no way he can guarantee that, but at least his confidence is reassuring. Caleb opens his mouth to say that he's _not_ worried (even if it's another lie) but launches into another bout of coughing. Kasmir pats his back awkwardly as he rides it out. When it passes, he rolls over onto his back and slings an arm over his eyes. "Ugh."

He opens his eyes to see Kasmir frowning at him. The Kalleran reaches out and presses the back of his hand against his forehead. "You must've picked something up on Bonadan. I'll see if I can find some fever drugs in Longstar."

Caleb blinks. There's a note to Kasmir's voice that he's never heard before. His tone is soft, almost _gentle_ , and that isn't a word he has ever associated with Janus Kasmir before. He's not quite sure what to do with this unexpected side his partner is showing, and to be honest it's making him a little uncomfortable. So he does the first thing that comes to mind and gives a wan but smug grin. "What, you…you worried about me?"

Kasmir rolls his eyes and his expression hardens into something more familiar. "You ain't _dying_ , kid. But I'm gonna be in the market anyway, and if this trade goes well, I'll have money to pick up a few supplies on the way out. Unless you'd rather suffer through it."

Honestly, Caleb's kind of touched that he's willing to spend hard-acquired credits on medicine for him. But he can't let Kasmir know that. Instead he just nods and pulls the cowl tighter around his shoulders and shivers. "Thanks."

Kasmir stands and heads toward the back of the ship. Caleb curls further into himself, pulling his knees to his chest, coughs roughly and does his best to ignore the pain. There's a tiny, childish part of him that selfishly wishes Kasmir would postpone the trade, but he quickly stuffs it down deep inside. He's never had a false impression of his relationship with the Kalleran. It's strictly professional; just a business partnership that's beneficial to both of them. Caleb has always been okay with that. He has never expected Kasmir to care about him on a deeper level. Even if their time as partners has reminded him too much of his relationship with Grey and Styles… Even if he's probably the closest friend Caleb's ever had (he doesn't count his relationship with Depa. He doesn't think about her anymore), he knows his place.

They're not friends. Kasmir would drop him in a second if he thought it would profit him more than their current arrangement. And if he's showing any concern at all it's only because his asset is out of commission. Caleb might as well be a damaged droid (which is _fine_ , it _doesn't_ bother him, this is what he agreed to).

So it's absolutely ridiculous for him to be wishing that Kasmir would stick around to take care of him. Probably just the fever. Caleb doesn't need anyone to look after him. He's not a child.

Kasmir comes back a few minutes later with a blanket. He stands beside the bunk and looks down at the ex-Padawan, holding it with both hands as if he can't decide what to do with it. Caleb only watches, too exhausted to lift his head, as he opens and closes his mouth a few times before finally giving an irritated huff and unfolding the fabric.

"Don't get used to this," he mumbles, and spreads the blanket out on top of him.

 _I won't_ , Caleb thinks. He doesn't have enough strength to say it.

—

The remainder of the journey is a blur to Caleb. He slips in and out of sleep, mostly just waking up when in the throes of a coughing fit. Once he woke to the feeling of something cold on his head and was just lucid enough to recognize it as a cooling pack that Kasmir must've laid on him.

He wakes up fully when they dock in Konn-Nevos and Kasmir shakes him until he's coherent.

"I'm leaving now, all right?"

Caleb gives a weak nod.

"You'll, uh, be okay here, right? It shouldn't take long."

The note of worry Caleb thinks he hears in his voice must be a delusion from the fever.

"Ll'be fine," he slurs. "If… F'you don' come back I can have the _Kasmiri_ , right?"

Kasmir laughs. "Yeah. Sure, kid. But don't get your hopes up."

Caleb smiles feebly. "Don't get killed."

"Yeah, I won't."

It's the last thing that passes between them before Kasmir leaves.

—

Caleb sees Kasmir die a thousand different ways in his dreams, but it always ends the same: he's alone in Plateau City, with absolutely no one else to care whether he lives or dies except the Clones who just want him dead at all costs. He's on his own again, and this time there's not one soul to help him.

Depa's voice follows him. It keeps saying that this is _his_ fault, that he's worthless, that he deserves this fate and should just go ahead and _die_ already.

Grey and Styles, the only people left in the whole galaxy that even know who he is, hunting him like an animal.

He's alone. He's so alone. And so he does the only thing he can.

He runs.

—

"Kid? You still alive?"

He groans. He's burning and freezing, too hot and too cold at the same time. His throat is on fire.

"Wake up. I got some meds for you."

Caleb drags open sleep-crusted eyes. His face is dripping with sweat, hair now completely free from its tie plastered against burning skin. Kasmir must've taken his shirt off at some point; he can feel the scratchy texture of the blanket against his torso.

He blinks up at the Kalleran, trying desperately to pull his mind from the fever-fog. "You're 'live."

Kasmir's amphibious face softens in a smile and Caleb's really never been so glad to see it. "Yup. So are you. You scared me for a minute there, I couldn't wake you up."

He takes a breath, coughs a bit, and his eyes start to slide shut. "M'tired."

"No you don't." Kasmir shakes him firmly. "Don't fall asleep on me yet. You need to take this."

Caleb is hauled up into a sitting position and Kasmir keeps an arm around his back to support him. He's handed a few pills and some water, which he swallows with a little difficulty before being allowed to lie down again.

"I got this, too," Kasmir says, holding up a perigen patch. "It'll help with the pain." He smooths it out on Caleb's neck with the gentleness from before. Caleb wishes he had more energy so he could tease him about it.

Instead he just coughs.

"Are you…" Kasmir clears his throat, rubs a hand down the back of his neck and it strikes Caleb that his partner must be feeling out of his element. This seems to be a day for new experiences all around. "Are you feeling better? I don't need to take you to a medcenter or anything, right?"

Caleb shakes his head slowly so as not to irritate his headache any further. "M'not… _dying_ ," he croaks, even if he feels like he is. Kasmir seems to appreciate the jibe, at least. "How'd…trade…?"

"It went fine." The Kalleran leans back and smiles wryly to himself, an expression he wears often. "We got everything we were promised. Had to put a few bolts in a few people, but no Imperial interruptions. Could'a used your help, though."

Caleb grins. "Missed me?"

"Nah. It just took longer lugging all the cargo on board by myself. I'd almost forgotten what it's like to do business without a snot-nosed brat following me around."

"You…missed me."

He's teasing, of course. If he was a little more clearheaded he'd probably be concerned that running a solo job might remind Kasmir of how much he likes doing things on his own.

So he's taken completely by surprise when his accomplice sighs and lays a hand on his shoulder. "All right. Maybe a little. It's…nice to have you around to watch my back. So heal up soon, okay? If I get shot, I'm blaming you."

This time Caleb's not so sure he's imagining the concern in his voice. He's not so sure the soft look in Kasmir's eyes is the fever causing him to hallucinate. Maybe…maybe he really _does_ care a little bit. After all, he's sitting here giving him medicine, keeping an eye on him…taking care of him.

"Of course I'm taking care of you, you idiot. I'm not gonna let my best partner die from a cough of all things."

He thinks about Kasmir feeding him when he didn't have to, letting him crash on his ship when he knew he'd get nothing in return, helping him with his clothes, teaching him how to _survive_ …

Really, Kasmir's been taking care of him since the beginning.

The next time Caleb falls asleep, he isn't followed by that heavy weight, the fear that he'll wake up alone. He isn't plagued by nightmares. He feels safe. He's still running, but Kasmir is there running right alongside him. He takes comfort in the knowledge that, for now, he doesn't have to do this on his own.

He drifts off to the sound of Kasmir's voice telling him stories of adventures he's had on different worlds. He's too tired to listen, but the reassurance that Kasmir is beside him is more than enough.

Maybe there will come a day when he can venture out and make something of himself again. But until then, he's just glad there's someone who cares. Even if it's only a little bit.

* * *

 **I'm super emotional about Caleb and Janus and I want to write more one-shots about their partnership but I'm kind of lacking for ideas so does anyone have prompts?**

 **As always, thanks for reading!**


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